pretend the world is perfect
by lannistersdebt
Summary: It's been a week since Voldemort won the war... and life is already so different. Written for Round 8 for the Quidditch League.


Lying down on the soft bed with Narcissa's body pressed against his and the sheets tangled around their ankles, it was easy to pretend that the world was perfect. During the moments they were quiet, listening to each other's breaths and heartbeats, he could let himself believe that nothing else mattered because nothing was wrong, but that couldn't be further from the truth. Everything was wrong, everything was different, and there was little they could do about it.

A quiet knock at the door snapped him from his thoughts before they could go further. The wizard sighed and rolled onto his back for a moment, then slipped from the bed. He grabbed his traveling cloak from the back of the settee in front of the largest window in the room and padded toward the door as he put it on. The knocking came again just as he turned the knob.

"Yes, yes, enough with the knocking." He made sure the irritation showed in his voice. "What could you possibly want at this time of the nig-"

"I'm sorry, Professor, it's just that I was told to tell you - immediately - that there will be three more executions and another trial first thing in the morning." Hermione Granger, the one girl he'd expected to resist beyond any other, wouldn't meet his eyes as she spoke. "Harry's relatives, and someone else. You're not required to come, but You-Know-Who would like you to send a few potions to help 'make things interesting.'"

She used her fingers to make quotation marks around the last few words, still staring at the floor. It was strange to see her and to think of the person she been just two weeks ago - even one week ago, in the moments before her best friend was murdered in front of her.

"My apologies, Miss Granger; I did not realize that it was you." He looked over his shoulder at Narcissa's sleeping form, and then stepped into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him. "I've got other business in the morning, so I will not be attending, but if you'll come with me I'll get you what you need."

Without another word, the pair walked to the room at the end of the hall, the one that had once been the guest room reserved for him. It had since been converted into a potions lab; he had done little brewing as of late, but his stores were vast and the shelves well stocked. It took him only a few minutes to gather everything he knew the Dark Lord wanted - potions he could use to torture the victims mentally while he tortured them physically, plus the mock veritiserum. There were spells on each vial to ensure that Hermione couldn't use them on herself; the Dark Lord wanted to take no unnecessary chances that the potions were not used on the prior recipients.

Hermione took them quietly and stored them in the satchel she wore around her neck, her expression forlorn as she did so. When Harry Potter died, part of her went with him. She had given up hope, and she'd done so fast.

"Miss Granger, I think a sleeping draught would help you." He held a goblet out to her, made sure she finished it, and sent her back to her quarters.

* * *

Moonlight streamed into the bedroom when he returned. Narcissa sat at the end of the bed; she'd fixed the sheets on the bed and had put the duvet back on, but she'd yet to put her clothes back on. It was a way to stay in their small world of make-believe, to deny that life had changed.

"Severus!" She stood when she noticed him. "I wasn't sure when you'd be back…"

"I didn't want to wake you." His voice was rough from talking so much over the past few days. "There are more executions in the morning. They needed potions."

"Do you need any help?" He shook his head, stepping closer to the window. She followed, taking his hand in hers. "How was she?"

"Different."

The witch sighed and leaned her head against Snape's shoulder. They lapsed into a silence filled with unspoken words and forbidden thoughts. It had just been a week and there were changes already. A law had been passed the day after the war that stated muggleborns could either be taken in as servants or executed - the choice was theirs. Hermione had wanted to give up, but Narcissa wouldn't let her and Snape backed her up on that decision. Beyond that, there was little organization. Death Eaters were put in charge of groups of snatchers. From the people caught, muggleborns were separated from the others and were forced to make their choice: live or serve. If anyone of particular value was caught, there was a trial of sorts. Muggles who knew about magic were executed at the Ministry. And any muggles with no idea the wizarding world existed? They were killed for sport, no matter the location.

"People think it's wrong for us to be together." Her voice was shaky and unexpected.

"Narcissa?" He turned to press a kiss to her forehead. "Who cares? We could be dead in a couple of hours."

"You're right." She tilted her head up to meet his lips with hers, and when they started inching toward the bed again she tugged him to a stop. "I don't like what our world is coming to, but there are a few things that I wouldn't change about it if I could, and this - you and I - is high on that list."

He gave her a half smile. "I wouldn't change that for the world."

As he pressed her into the soft mattress again, Severus felt the worries of the world slip from his shoulders. There, he could pretend all was as it should be.

* * *

 ** _author's note;_**

This was written for Round 8 of Quidditch League.  
I write for the Montrose Magpies.  
My position is Beater 1.  
The round prompt was Voldemort Wins AU - as Beater 1, I was assigned what life would be like a week after Voldemort won.  
My additional prompts were:  
\- 3 (word); moonlight  
\- 5 (dialogue); "Who cares? We could be dead in a couple of hours."


End file.
